I sat there on my cushion, all curled up comfortable, and listened to my sister's song. She had a sweet voice, as soft as my silk dress, as gentle as a summer breeze. Like a stream's quiet voice that fills the whole forest, my sister's quiet song could be heard throughout the palace. I smiled as I gazed at my lovely sister. She was seated on a wooden chair that had been carved by the most talented of carvers. She held a little, ivory harp whose voice joined hers in a beautiful melody. She wore a violet dress that had a silver border. Her golden hair shone in the soft rays of the evening sun. My sister's emerald eyes were turned toward the balcony and gazed at the lovely scene that was out there. The sea glimmered like a red ruby; there were only a few boats going to and fro in the usually busy harbor and the first stars started to appear where the light of day had just recently fled. In my sister's room, all was calm as she ended her song with the passing of day.

Author's Note: This is one of my favorites of my long-ago writings. I remember enjoying writing it, picturing the scene I was trying to describe, and today I still enjoy reading it, though it had some glitches, as everything has. (I think I used lovely and beautiful too many times, as well as the subject-verb sentence structure.) However, I relish the word-picture made, and sometimes wish it could be painted.

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